Blood of the Beast
by actual
Summary: Vampirism, lycanthropy, and dark (not-darkfic) overtones collide in a semi-Gothic trip of pure insanity.


"Okay," I sigh. "Let's try this again." My eyes rise and meet hers, momentarily. Then she dips her head, and a curtain of bloody red hair shields her face from my gaze.  
  
"Will... you... do... it?" I enunciate each word clearly, trying to keep a cool, level head, despite the insanity of the situation. Not easy. Sucking in my breath, awaiting her answer, I flick the knife absent-mindedly from hand to hand. The scarce bit of light in the room serves to illuminate and highlight the sheen of blood still clinging to the blade.  
  
Finally, finally, after hanging on the razor's edge of silence for what seemed like hours, probably was a few minutes, but was unarguably too long, her response drifts across the room to me. Her voice sounds defeated, suicidally desperate.  
  
"Oh... kay."  
  
I smirk to myself, and brush the at least six-inch scar running along my neck lightly. That was the first try; only a few minutes ago. This time, this time, it will be different. Oh yes. Deftly I spin the knife about, the blade glinting ominously as the knife twists sinously about my finger. Snapping my neck to the side, I expose the unscarred flesh. Clenching my jaw, drawing a deep breath, I steel myself for what I'm about to do.  
  
One lonely moment before the blade delicately brushes my flesh, I painfully realize that no amount of meditation would have steeled me for the experience of slitting my own throat. Though all my being is groaning in pain, I restrain myself from flinching as the knife has its way with the soft muscle and skin of my neck. Still, a low, guttural moan, almost a growl, escapes my throat, followed closely by the knife clattering to the floor.  
  
The growl, coupled with the soft gurgling of my life's blood fleeing my veins, seems to awaken something in Misty. Her head snaps up, alert. Strands of hair obscure her eyes, but I know that they are fixed unwaveringly upon my pulsing throat; my blood seeping from it. Through eyes forced half-closed by pain, I watch as she sniffs the air, her nose twitching delicately. In a smooth motion that is painful to watch coming from her, she draws back her full, pink lips in a sick grin, baring her teeth, long and sharp, they are. She flows toward me, merging and separating from the liquid shadows, her pale bare feet not even seeming to touch the ground. Her motion is so fluid, she makes crossing the few steps between us seem an elaborate dance, seductive and darkly beautiful.  
  
I'm almost mesmerized. Almost. Until she reaches arm's length of me. Then smiles and seductivity vanish, as seemingly fleeting as the blood escaping my veins. Strong hands clamp the back of my head and shoulder; even if I wanted to, I doubt that I could move. At least, not without insane effort on my part. I feel her hot breath on my neck for the briefest of instants, before her mouth is smashed to the open wound with frightening force. Her sharp teeth pierce the skin about the slash, forcing it open even further... her tongue probes the inside of my neck viciously as she drains me of my precious lifeblood. The pain is nearly unbearable right now; I grunt as I labor to maintain consciousness. I know she would never intentionally empty me of all my fluids, but when the bloodlust is upon her, it is nearly impossible to control... My pain seems to serve only to encourage her efforts; she bites more viciously, tightens her grip about my neck, nearly crushes my skull with her hands... her slender, pale body belies her insane strength. The sound of her giggling dementedly is nearly enough to break my concentration, but I can't let it. My consciousness is vital. Without it, I am surely dead.  
  
I am weak. Very weak. Close to death. Her thirst is not yet quenched, I believe that she may yet empty me. Or not. I can feel it surging through my empty veins, coursing through my brain. It will not let me die. I will not let me die. I restrain it one moment, bracing myself against it with all force I can summon, just to prove that I am the master, and then embrace it with all my soul.  
  
Feeling the beastly power strengthening every fiber of my being, I growl, a deep, long sound that escapes my rapidly lengthening muzzle. This doesn't seem to affect Misty in the least; if anything, she seems more urgently emptying my veins. It's not going to make a damned bit of difference.  
  
The sense of my muscles undulating, thickening, being filled with raw power is exhilarating; simultaneously I enjoy the half-sickening-half-pleasurable sensation of my bones and their structure altering themselves... my entire body is rearranging itself as I roar. Thick, coarse white fur explodes from my flesh, bringing with it not a little blood. My entire body is covered in fur; my expanding muscles and chest cavity rip my tee shirt apart from every direction. The long, baggy cargo pants I wear are now struggling to contain my enormous mass; every bit of it lean muscle. Almost there... Misty is now clutching unsure at my shoulders, raking my upper body with talon-like fingernails, driving her bloody hands as deep into my flesh as possible, tearing at my iron-bound throat with her teeth; none of this will subdue me...  
  
... lastly, I feel my hearing increase a hundredfold as my ears elongate, ending in tufts of white fur. My tail is perhaps slightly uncomfortable trapped under the fabric of my cargo pants, but that is of little concern right now... detaching the parasite, however, is.  
  
One sweep of my arm sends her flying, like an inconsequential bug. Her strength is naught compared to mine; her arms are ripped from my body, almost from her sockets, and she is flung across the room, to slam viciously into a wall. I roar victoriously, adrenaline joining the sparse blood I have left.  
  
My lips pull back, exposing my canines in a wicked grin as I watch her broken little body slide to the floor, leaving a dark wet smear on the wall behind her. The sensation of your body knitting itself back together, blood pouring into your tired veins, reminds you of the power of the beast; and of the weakness of the human form... 


End file.
